Bright Lights, Cheap Burgers

Last week, the Midwestern fast-food chain Steak ’n Shake announced that, in honor of the grand opening of their premier New York store, they would offer the first hundred and fifty customers a prize of sweepstakes proportions: a free burger, milkshake, and fries once a week for a year. The restaurant, next to the Ed Sullivan Theatre in midtown, where the “Late Show with David Letterman” is taped, was scheduled to open at 10 A.M. on Thursday; by 7 P.M. on Wednesday, there were eight people in line.

That people would line up for Steak ’n Shake is not surprising. Danny Meyer, who grew up in St. Louis, Missouri, has said that it was the inspiration for Shake Shack, and Illinois-born Roger Ebert once devoted an entire, nostalgic blog post to it: “The Steakburger is a symphony of taste and texture,” he wrote. Someone tweets about an average of once every minute: “STEAK N SHAKE IN NY, REALLY? MY DREAMS CAME TRUE #THANKUJESUS.”

The surprise was that only one person in line had ever eaten at Steak ’n Shake. The others were there for a singular reason. “Free food!” chorused three freshmen from King’s College, a Christian liberal-arts school in the Empire State Building. None of them had ever set foot in a Steak ’n Shake, but they had arrived at 4:30 that afternoon, led by a sophomore named Thiery Sparks, from Texas (home to nineteen Steak ’n Shakes). “It’s probably the best fast food in the world,” Sparks said. “It’s something you’ll remember all your life.”

The chance of rain was a hundred per cent and the temperature was dropping, but the Steak ’n Shake staff had promised ponchos and hot coffee, and the students had packed umbrellas, snacks (dried blueberries, corn on the cob), and “makeup, for the media,” said Mary Casella, one of the freshmen. “Congratulations!” shouted a man walking by. “Y’all have fun and be safe. Love you!” “Love you, too!” Casella yelled back.

Next in line were Lisa Cao and Jacqueline Choi, ultra-marathon runners who met at a thirty-mile race on the Appalachian Trail. Neither of them had tried Steak ’n Shake but, “We need our fuel,” said Choi, a thirty-one-year-old mental-health attorney. Cao, twenty-four, who works for a road-race organization, felt slightly guilty: “This isn’t like, aligned with our mission.”

“But it’s actually really good training for us,” said Choi. “Lisa’s getting ready for a twenty-four-hour race. And I have my sneakers on, so I might jump up and down.” They were using their iPhones to log comments from passersby. “This very, very nice homeless man asked us if we were occupying,” said Choi. “We had to say no.”

Around 8 P.M., a black Escalade with New Jersey plates pulled up and a pod of suits in wool coats got out and went inside. At its nucleus was a tall, thin man with long, slicked-back hair and a slightly sinister, Mr. Burns-like expression: he was Sardar Biglari, the chairman and C.E.O. of Biglari Holdings, which controls Steak ’n Shake and is the largest stakeholder in Cracker Barrel. As he inspected the restaurant, a pair of I.T. guys milled around nervously out front. “That’s the first digital menu board we’ve ever had,” one said. Minutes later, Biglari and his entourage were back in the Escalade and speeding off into the night.

Twelve hours later, the line had increased tenfold, despite the driving rain and wind. Charlie Bittner, a twenty-three-year-old non-profit administrator wearing a backpack and hiking boots, had arrived around 1:30 A.M. and spread his sleeping bag under the overhang of the Ed Sullivan. “I went to Washington University in St. Louis, and Steak ’n Shake was kind of a late-night haunt,” he said. “This is a beautiful way for me to reminisce.” Anton Wilkins, a manager at B.B. King Blues Club, had received several e-mails about the promotion from friends. “They know I’m a freebie fan. If it’s free, it’s me, if it ain’t free, it ain’t me. That’s my phrase.”

At the front of the pack, the King’s College contingent and the ultra-marathoners were holding strong, taking turns warming up in a McDonald’s down the street. Around 3 A.M., they said, a bartender just off his shift and drunk, had shown up, asked what was going on, then disappeared into Duane Reade and emerged with thirty-six beers, a lawn chair, and a collection of hats and gloves. “He was like, ‘Hey guys, want a beer?’” said Christine Roberts, one of the students. “He called his wife and said, ‘Hi honey, I don’t think I’m coming home tonight.’”

By 9:30 A.M., the crowd was growing restless. Someone started a chant: “Let us in! Let us in!” Just before ten, Sardar Biglari reappeared, and a wide red ribbon was stretched before him. A glamorous young woman in a black miniskirt and knee-high leather boots handed him a pair of cartoonishly large scissors. Biglari smiled for the cameras. He cut the tape. “It’s 10:01!” someone shouted. “At 10:05 I’m going to Shake Shack.” Moments later, a first shift of people was ushered through the door and the dispensing of meal tickets began.

Inside, as a dozen workers bustled around the open kitchen, the King’s College students slumped over a counter, looking dazed. With a shake in one hand and a paper cup of fries in the other, Jacqueline Choi was already making her exit. Was it worth it? “The burger was SO good,” she said, her eyes widening. “I’ve already forgotten about last night!”

A week later, I went back to decide for myself, accompanied by a Kansas City native who remembers fondly the Steakburgers of his youth. At 3:30 P.M., the only line on the block was for David Letterman, and we breezed into the restaurant. “These are Wichita prices!” said my friend from the Paris of the Plains, staring in awe at the menu, on which a double cheeseburger ’n fries was priced at $3.99. We ordered two, plus two shakes—one vanilla, one strawberry, both with whipped cream and a cherry on top—and ate looking out onto the sidewalk, where people snapped photos of each other in front of the Ed Sullivan Theatre’s neon marquee.

Would I wait in line for eighteen hours to eat free Steak ’n Shake for a year? Probably not; Danny Meyer has perfected the form, and I’d choose Shake Shack any day, if not every day. But I could see—in the straightforward, classic food and the friendly Midwestern charm of the well-trained employees—what Meyer, Ebert, and the rest of the heartland find so appealing. And, short of free, you can’t beat those Wichita prices.

Photograph by Diane Bondareff/AP Images.

Hannah Goldfield is the food critic for The New Yorker and newyorker.com.